


The Heart That Aches

by VeloxVoid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Blushing, Butterflies, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Gerome has a soft side, Laurent is a disaster, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: Laurent, during his late-night reports, has begun to pine for Gerome. He just doesn't know it yet. Yet when Gerome unexpectedly begins to show a softer side, it becomes clear that the pining is mutual.
Relationships: Gerome/Loran | Laurent
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	The Heart That Aches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvernknighted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernknighted/gifts).



> Written for the lovely [Wyvernknighted!](https://twitter.com/wyvernknighted) Thank you so much for the amazing prompt, and for the truly heart-warming gift you gave to my charity :) I can't thank you enough!

Nothing to report. Another day with no change; nothing needed, nothing happening, and nothing… to talk about.

Laurent felt a little foolish, striding down the corridor to meet with Gerome once again. It had become a habit of his; while at first the rush of thanks leaving Gerome’s lips would fill Laurent with an almost childish glee, now he felt no more than a burden.

Of late, Gerome had seemed more and more dismissive. Narrowed eyes when Laurent would emphasise the important, a remark about how he’d missed a detail, a curt dismissal afterwards... 

Laurent sighed, the sound seeming to echo tauntingly in his ears. Perhaps he was overthinking it. Gerome was a busy man, with far more on his plate to think about than Laurent.

So why was he so worked up about this? He was simply doing his duty — reporting the status of the Shepherds as Gerome had requested. Yet even still, he felt an urge to do everything perfectly. He felt a desire to show Gerome he was capable, and couldn’t place his finger on the reason as to _why._ He _knew_ he was capable — diligent, and proud of his work — yet something inside of him tugged at his heartstrings whenever it came to Gerome. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became.

He wanted to impress him.

Laurent had seen a smile work its way across Gerome’s lips on only one occasion. He had seen the flames dance in eyes filled with joy, heard a musical chuckle strum on the deep, handsome tones of his voice. He wanted to witness those things again. A part of him, for one reason or another, wanted to be the cause.

Laurent shook his head and took a breath. Now was not the time to be daydreaming. He had a job to do. He cleared his throat, held his head high, and turned down a corridor—

“Oh!”

Colliding head-on with somebody startled him, knocking his hat askew. Laurent took a few flustered paces backwards, straightening out his robes from the impact, when a voice filled his ears.

“Oh, Laurent, I’m…”

He looked up, frantic. Sure enough, the figure before him wore armour black as ebony, smouldering like embers beneath the amber light of the torches on the walls. Sure enough, the figure had dusky-red hair slicked back from an angular face — a face covered by a sharp, wicked-looking mask.

A tickling sensation fluttered in the pit of Laurent’s stomach as he took in the form of the man before him. It caused his blood to pound, his throat to grow tight. _Nerves,_ Laurent told himself firmly. _Shock. Surprise. That is all._

“Gerome, good evening,” he said, thankful to hear his voice come out steadily. “I was not expecting to see you here.”

“Ah, yes,” Gerome responded, his tone somewhat stilted. “Actually, I was just on my way to find you.”

Laurent’s heart skipped a beat. He was careful not to let it show. “Oh, you were? What excellent timing then, I suppose.” He smiled and bowed his head courteously. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Well,” Gerome began, taking a breath. Beneath his mask, his eyes flickered to the ceiling, blinking in a way that looked… odd. Unlike him. Nervous, somehow.

“Gerome?” Laurent asked, leaning in a little closer. The faintest sheen of sweat was visible upon Gerome’s forehead, between the expanse of pale skin not obscured by his mask. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Gerome said suddenly. He looked back down to Laurent’s eyes and nodded. All nervousness was gone — forgotten. Now, he was simply Gerome again: that curious, distant, yet somehow charming man. “Everything is fine. Forget I mentioned anything.”

His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and he cracked his fingers with the strength of his thumbs, causing an unpleasant _pop_ sound to echo through the corridor.

“If you are certain,” Laurent said, rather uncertain himself. Something seemed amiss about the man tonight — a flightiness to him that he had never witnessed before, not even in the heat of battle.

“Come,” Gerome said, turning with a flourish of his cape. “You must be here for the nightly report?” He began to walk away, the heels of his boots ringing against the floor.

Laurent blinked after him for a moment. His change of tune, his erratic behaviour, his bid to get away so suddenly… It was none of his business, Laurent knew — Gerome was a busy man, after all, and could have any number of responsibilities preoccupying him — but…

He followed, hopping a couple of steps to keep up with the other man. “Yes,” he responded at last, finally finding his voice. “I was just on my way to report you. To report _to_ you, I mean, I apologise—”

“Very good.”

The journey back to Gerome’s office continued in silence, the sensation of foolishness rising inside of Laurent. At this hour, when most of the Shepherds were settling down for bed, the hallways were empty; Gerome and Laurent were alone, walking side by side. Somehow, Laurent always felt a little more… _powerful_ in his presence. Aligned with somebody as revered as Gerome, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, walking briskly together, Laurent could take on the world.

Upon reaching the office, Gerome opened the door and closed it once they had both entered. He took his usual seat, down at the table in the room’s centre, upon which a map had been spread.

Laurent stood by the door, raised his chin, and cleared his throat. “So, to premise this report—”

“You may sit down, Laurent,” Gerome interrupted.

Laurent was stunned into silence, his lips parting a couple of times but unable to find words. “I… beg your pardon?”

A pause. Beneath his mask, it was difficult to discern an expression, but Laurent saw a slight hesitation as Gerome blinked and licked his lips. “You do not have to stand. Please, by all means—” And he pulled out the chair next to him from beneath the table, patting its wooden seat with a gloved hand. “You can sit with me.”

That sent blood rushing up to Laurent’s cheeks. Never before had Gerome been so _hospitable_ to him. But it was not an unwelcome change. “If it would please you, of course,” Laurent responded, courteous as always. He perched down upon the seat next to Gerome, tucking it under the table and placing his hands in his lap. “So, as I was saying, I’m afraid this report will not be nearly as interesting as some of my others.”

Gerome crossed one leg over the other, placed his hands with their fingers interlaced on top of the table, and cocked his head at Laurent. “And why might that be?”

 _Oh gosh._ His tone was a little curt, perhaps even upset. Laurent wanted nothing less than to disappoint. He looked to the opposite wall — to a different map pinned against the brickwork. “My apologies, but there actually isn’t much to report at all. Our stocks are well-supplied, morale is high amongst our forces, and a conversation with…” But movement out of the corner of his eye made Laurent stop, glancing over to the man beside him.

Gerome had rested his chin upon one balled up fist, his elbow leaning upon the table. He gazed at Laurent with a curious expression — almost _too_ fixated upon him.

Was Gerome… mocking him?

“Gerome, are you alright?” Laurent asked.

His eyes widened behind his mask and he nodded. “I am fine. I am merely interested in what you have to say.”

 _Interested?_ “You look a little…” He eyed Gerome up and down — his relaxed posture, the almost awkward tilt to his head. How could he word this without coming across as rude? “... a little distracted, that is all.”

“Distracted…?” That seemed to snap Gerome to his senses. He sat up, uncrossed his legs, returned his own hands to his lap, and straightened his back. “My apologies, Laurent. That was not my intention.” With that, he scooted his chair closer to Laurent’s own, so close that Laurent could almost feel the warmth emanating off his body. “Please, do continue.”

But Laurent was flustered now. “No need to apologise. As I was saying, um… I was speaking with…” But, sitting so close, Laurent could smell the scent that Gerome effused — an incredible sweet scent like the perfume nobles often sported. A pleasant aroma, fresh and crisp; rather like pine, or cedar, or other handsome musks. It filled Laurent’s nostrils and made his eyes widen — made his brain slow to a halt, dazed.

He smelled wonderful. And, as Laurent allowed himself a glance from the corners of his eyes, he _looked_ wonderful too.

Hair effortlessly windswept, like unruly embers of a waning blaze. His jaw sharp and cutting, with a straight nose to match. Lips that were pale and parted slightly, but the rest of the face hidden beneath a mysterious mask.

 _Oh,_ how Laurent wished to see beneath that mask. To see the true shape to Gerome’s fantastic crimson eyes — to see the way they would shine. To see how his face _really_ looked when he smiled, whether it would light up as beautifully as Laurent expected. He heaved a little sigh, and allowed the butterflies in his chest to swarm even more frantically, dancing around his heart and in his lungs.

He liked this feeling. He knew he shouldn’t have — Gerome was surely _far_ too busy to ever think about Laurent in the same way — but he loved it all the same. It would most likely get him in trouble, but in the moment, he didn’t seem to care.

An anxious laugh bubbled up out of his throat, which he hastened to stifle with the back of his hand. “I apologise, Gerome. I seem to have lost my train of thought entirely.”

And, to Laurent’s surprise, the corners of Gerome’s sharp pale lips curled upwards. Not quite a smile — not yet — but a smirk. It looked magnificent on him nonetheless.

“I do believe I have as well,” Gerome said. “Your laugh makes such a pleasant sound.”

That made the chuckles catch in Laurent’s throat. He felt shock flood him, replacing the butterflies with a sensation much sharper. “You… do?” he asked.

“I do! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of hearing it before.”

Laurent had nothing to respond, merely offered Gerome some confounded stutters. “Why, I... I can say the same about your smile,” he uttered at last.

“Oh, can you?” A quizzical, almost challenging spark flickered behind his eyes.

“I can! It is a wonder to look upon. I wish to see it more often.” _I wish to see it every day. I wish to_ cause _it, Gerome._

Gerome looked at him for a long moment, the air filled only by the sound of Laurent’s blood rushing in his ears. He had been bold. Perhaps foolish. He had most likely said too much, overcome by the excitement of the moment, and would be reprimanded.

But to his relief, a smile showed itself upon Gerome’s lips. A true one this time, which exposed his teeth. “Okay then,” he said. “A proposition for you then, Laurent. At tomorrow’s nightly report, you laugh for me, and I will smile for you. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

 _A deal?_ Trading a childish giggle for one of the most beautiful sights in the land — a smile from Gerome? Laurent could think of nothing more perfect. “We have ourselves a deal, certainly.”

“Excellent.” Gerome stood then, and Laurent followed suit. They shook hands, Gerome’s so warm and comforting in Laurent's grasp. “I apologise for my behaviour before, by the way.”

That took Laurent aback. “Were you okay?”

“I simply…” Gerome looked a little lost, his eyes flickering between each of Laurent’s own. “I truly am interested in what you have to say, Laurent. I value our meetings together.”

His heart danced, the flames roaring inside of him to make his blood fizzle with heat. “As do I.”

Gerome nodded. “I wish to _show_ you I am interested. To appear more engaged.”

“Your word is all I need,” Laurent said, finding himself almost whispering. The moment was tender, the air quiet.

“Thank you.” Gerome offered him another smile, one that looked almost shy. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. And to hear you laugh some more.”

Laurent smiled his own smile — a beam so fierce it ached his cheeks. When he responded, the words came from the bottom of his heart. “I can scarcely wait.”

Laurent left the room with the butterflies in his chest still dancing, the delight in his brain singing, and his heart already aching to see more of Gerome tomorrow.


End file.
